


i have these lucid dreams

by theadamantdaughter



Series: NSFW 30 Day OTP Challenge [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, F/M, Fluff, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, shallura - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 11:59:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15267042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theadamantdaughter/pseuds/theadamantdaughter
Summary: “I’m not supposed to be resting,” he says, lashes fluttering, hands moving to cup her ass.Shiro stretches out flat on his stomach. His shoulders keep her legs apart, keep her open and spread for him. Even when her heels find purchase in his back, her body seeking friction, she gets no more freedom to hide herself from him.Allura lets off a warning; she only came here to cuddle. “Shiro.”





	i have these lucid dreams

**Author's Note:**

> so, i found a nsfw 30 day otp challenge, which means i’m going to try to write smut for an entire month and you’re going to get some (hopefully good) nastiness that’s hardly edited. 
> 
> here’s day one - cuddles (naked); set post s6, somewhere on earth. and of course i had to give it feelings.

“Come here, my Princess.”

Shiro’s voice is thick in the darkness, as gentle as Earth’s glowing moon. His words curl around her like smoke, warm and lazy, speckles of ash settling on her skin and sinking in. They pull her from the cusp of sleep. When his lips whisper along the back of her neck, heat unfurls in her stomach like her body houses a fire— and, maybe it does.

Allura thinks she'll combust.

If she hasn’t already.

It’s almost hard to know which way is up, he’s had her so many times on this night. In and out of dreams, he's made her hips ache in a pleasant, familiar way. Her waist is stained with bruises. Her ass tingles from the memory of his palm. Her legs chafe when she shifts them. Even still, when his mouth leaves kisses like hot coals along her jaw, Allura’s blood sings.

Fingertips drag up her skin like a match, following paths Shiro memorized long ago. The valleys and hills and peaks; he knows them all. He navigates without a map.

Allura lets out a moan when his nails scrape her stomach, when his thumb makes her nipple pebble up. “You’re insatiable, Takashi.” Her own lust leaks in, pours in when he pinches the pert, little bud. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

The lightest laughter tickles her neck. Shiro fills his palm with her breast, earning a low groan when fingers dig in. She feels his teeth on her shoulder; he nips, then his hand slides to her waist. All too soon, the heat pouring off his chest vanishes. Her spine is licked by the cold and Allura means to protest, but she’s rolled to her back and held down by her hips. Shiro’s mouth grazes up the inside of her leg.

“If that were the case, Princess, you wouldn’t have come to my bed... so many hours ago.” Grey eyes glint like sin. Shiro bites at her thigh, laps at the offense. His breath hums across her sex when he tastes the remnants of her and him on her skin.

“I’m not supposed to be resting,” he says, lashes fluttering, hands moving to cup her ass.

Shiro stretches out flat on his stomach. His shoulders keep her legs apart, keep her open and spread for him. Even when her heels find purchase in his back, her body seeking friction, she gets no more freedom to hide herself from him.

Allura lets off a warning; she only came here to cuddle. “Shiro.”

It sounds pleading.

His nose brushes her clit; his sigh tickles her slick lips. “I’m supposed to be doing this.”

“Ahh— ” She whines when he finally licks up her slit. Once. Twice. He stops, blowing air over the wet, sensitive skin, and starts again. “Shiro.” Fists in his snow-white hair, Allura fights an all-out cry. The others are around; they have to be quiet. Her lungs catch, her breath stutters, but it’s no use. He knows all her secrets.

Her back is off the mattress by the time his tongue flicks over her clit, then he makes quick, repetitive shapes and Allura swears he’s asking to hear his name.

_“Takashi!”_

Her mouth hangs open after she calls to him, foreign renditions of curses and praises filling the air and showering down on the bed. It’s all she can do when he nips, when he sucks, when he abuses her clit with laps and licks and staccato kisses. Allura can’t count all the ways she says his name, how many pleas she’s made, how many noises she’s let free. It’s only in the distance that she remembers who she is: _Altean. Princess._

And it’s all because of him—  because in her wildest fantasies, she should never sound like this, keening and crooning and stripped at the edges. She’s falling apart at the seams.

Like he can read her mind, like he’s taking it as a challenge, a telltale buzz starts up in his Altean hand and Shiro shoves two fingers deep in her sex.

“Oh.” The metal’s cold. Allura squeaks, then her body adjusts and pleasure radiates through her limbs. She tugs at Shiro’s hair and turns her head, but not even the pillow can muffle her sighs, not when he touches her like this. The vibrations hum all the way up between her hips. She feels the thrum in her clit. Without his grip pinning her to the bed, she can move, press her heels into his back, and roll her hips.

“Takashi. More.”

At her demand, he slips another finger inside her and finds that spot that makes her toes curl. His smallest finger brushes her ass. Allura arcs above the mattress and her breath comes in quick pants, broken gasps.

“Shiro—” She quivers, strains; her arms, legs, lips all tremble as she rides the flat of his tongue. “Fuck.”

He loves that: when she curses, when her language turns simple and filthy. He dies at how desperate she gets, at the slip of her crown and title of princess. There’s renewed energy in his kisses and licks. He drinks her in like she’s water to him, eats her up like she’s food. She hopes, prays, begs that he’ll let her come...  She’s right there, hanging by a thread.

So, it kills her when Shiro leaves her stranded and his mouth grazes up her stomach to taste the sweat on her neck. His chin glistens; she gets notes of the sweetness between her legs when he finds her lips. The kiss is sweet; his touch, teasing. Shiro still has his fingers knuckle-deep in her sex, pumping in, gliding out, but the vibration has died to a dissatisfying frequency.

“Are you sure you want to come on my hand?”

A whine fills the air; he’s tormenting her on purpose.

“You could have _this...”_ Getting up to his knees, his eyes flicker with mischief and Shiro strokes himself like he’s showing off. He growls her name under his breath, sweeping up the cum that leaks from his cock and rubbing it around the head.

She imagines, to him, she looks ravenous.

“Do you want my cock, Princess? Do you want me to fill you up, fuck you over the edge?”

“Yes,” Allura answers in a tick. As much as she loves this, thrusting into his palm and making a mess on the pearlescent metal, she wants him. “Takashi, your cock. Please.”

His smile is something out of heaven when he slips off the bed to stand at the end. She watches him for a breath, anticipating what’s next. Shiro grabs her behind the knees and he yanks her down to him, holding her hips. Her ass hangs off the mattress. He finds the angle that has his dick sliding up and down her slit.

“Mmm.” She twists her hands in the sheets, staring down at the spread of her legs and the way her body soaks him. His pale skin is a shock next to hers; the trail of coarse hair down his navel is slick from her. “So pretty.”

“You like that?"

“—'s not enough.” Allura grunts, wrapping her legs around his waist, and grinds into him. “You said you’d fuck me.”

Shiro laughs, but he listens. His hands move up her body, cupping her breasts, gripping her shoulders. Finally— _ancients,_ finally—he tilts his hips just enough and buries herself in her cunt.

“Shit… Allura." His sigh is loud, eyes closing. He seems to steel himself for a moment, like he's staving off his release. Or, maybe he’s savoring her. She’s so full, so tight; her heart flutters in her chest and Allura mewls once his body is completely flush with hers.

Those lovely grey eyes open, refocusing on her.

“Good?” he asks, and when Allura nods, “Ready?”

That first thrust is somewhere between hard and soft: Shiro’s rears up, bracing himself with the metal hand that’ll surely leave more bruises on her hips, and his calloused fingers create the juxtaposition. They ghost across her chest, trace her breasts; her nipples pebble up when he pinches them. The sight makes him hiss, sends a pink flush to cover his skin. His gentleness fades.

He bows forward, teeth on her neck, hands in her hair. He tugs every time their hips meet, adding pain to the crashing mix and always kissing it away. She does the same, pulling his bangs, scraping his back. Her heels dig in to his ass, building his pace to something violent and fast, and she smiles at the growls tearing from him. 

But, as his movements become more erratic, as his breath shivers and the bed creaks, skin slapping wet skin, Shiro lifts his head and looks at her like she’s come into new focus. It’s not that he was distance before this—before the stutter in his hips and the moans he can’t hold back—but his eyes lock with hers, darken when she writhes, dance when she whines for relief from the tension wrapping around her body’s every fiber.

“Allura.” Shiro says her name so sweetly, like he tastes candy; his voice carries a gentle authority. “Come for me, Allura.” His right hand leaves her white strands, vibrating quietly when he thumbs her clit, again. The slow circles are pure torment; the way he ruts is sheer ecstasy. 

He doesn’t need to tell her again—she’s already falling, falling more deeply in love with her gentle Champion, her brave Black Paladin—but, he does. 

“Allura, please... come with me.” 

There’s a blinding white rush. There’s swirls of pink. There’s bursts of purple. The colors flicker in and out of her vision and everything she grasps at feels like him. He’s all around her. He’s inside her. His body’s like a paradise and she doesn’t care for what’s on the other side. 

All she needs is this: fading cries, faltering breaths, the ebb and flow of his quintessence. 

Shiro slumps on top of her with the most content of sighs, and Allura relaxes, rubbing her feet up and down his thighs. The burst of heat, the fire— it may be dying for the time being, but little embers remain and she tends to them, tickling his spine, playing with his hair. She’s content in his warmth.  

“My handsome Paladin,” Allura murmurs absently.

Lifting his head just enough to find her lips, Shiro smiles. “My beautiful Princess.” 

He bumps her nose, following up with more pecks. When the kisses deepen to something tender, holding a still unspoken confession, she doesn’t protest. She doesn’t need words; she doesn’t want them yet. 

What they have is enough. What they say is plenty.

“You found me,” Shiro whispers. 

Allura nods, and pulls him down to her chest. “Rest.” 


End file.
